Memory 2: Seul dans mon éternité
by sakura1243
Summary: "'No. He's not trying to hurt you. No. He's not going to kidnap you. No. He won't come into your room in the middle of the night and smother you with a pillow. It's Alfred. You're best friend.'" US/UK AU Sequel to 'Memory 1: Freedom Singing'


Memory 2

Seul dans mon éternité

One-shot

A/N: Hello again! If you haven't read the first in the 'Memory' series. . . Well, it doesn't really matter. But you should still check it out. Basically, it takes place in the same universe with the same characters except the story line has changed slightly. Yes, this was also written for school. Yes, it's in the same style as the first one. xD Hope you enjoy!

And 'seul dans mon éternité' means "alone in my eternity"

* * *

My first thought when I saw we had new neighbors with a son my age was '_Great. Another excuse for my mom to pester me about friends._' I was currently sitting on the wet sidewalk flipping wriggling worms into the grass with a long stick and thinking of all the reading assignments we had to do over the summer because teachers thought we needed to "expand our minds." (As if doing nothing but work for half the year isn't enough and we couldn't possibly just enjoy our vacation.) School had just gotten out last week and there were still kids dancing on the lawns and burning their books in small fires like some weird tribal cult because the boredom of not actually having anything to do wouldn't set in for another two weeks and school would suddenly sound appealing again until it was August and people actually started making plans to go places. I had just chucked a particularly fat worm into its grassy homeland when two sneakers that hadn't quite reached the ragged and worn state came to stop by my knee.

"Hey!" I flinched at the loud voice, booming and made my ears ring like they did when I listened to my iPod too loud only to pop out the ear buds and be greeted by silence because I was home alone or something. I immediately assigned it to a 100% American pre-teen boy.

Joy. My mother was going to have a field day.

I stood and dusted off my jeans ready to ask the boy what he wanted except a car chose that moment to cruise by and I tensed up at the tinted black windows reflecting the summer sun and shady oak trees. I didn't relax until it had reached the end of our street and taken a left towards town. I finally decided to skip talking and just assess my new neighbor, I never liked having to talk to people (especially ones I didn't know because you can't tell what they're thinking and that just makes me nervous.) He seemed normal enough, red basketball shorts and a blue Superman t-shirt not making me more suspicious than I already was. He reached up and scratched the back of his neck at my scrutiny, flashing his too-white teeth and giving a small and awkward chuckle that matched his nasally voice, kind of high and bubbly. I ignored him and turned and began walking towards the little iron gate in front of my house, bare feet throbbing and complaining with every acorn and twig that fell in their path.

"Alfred." I glanced behind me, meeting the boy's (insanely, I mean, really. Are those natural?) blue eyes. "My name is Alfred." I gave a slight nod of my head to indicate that I had heard but chose not to respond, as that would come after I had decided whether or not I trusted him ( I probably wouldn't and he would forever wonder about the kid that lives in the yellow house with the iron fence and a rock garden for a front yard. Or that's what I like to think would happen), before stepping inside the cool air of my house, practically sighing with relief as my summer-heated skin came in contact with something actually cold, and went in search of a tall glass of iced tea which I noted was only a few shades darker than Alfred's hair.

"You know, we're kind of like twins." I rolled over to stare at the boy sitting by the bed I was currently laying on, a big and fluffy thing that I would have been jealous of except it was covered in Superman sheets and matching pillowcases and I didn't go for the whole 'superhero' thing like Alfred.

"How so?" At this point I was beginning to question Alfred's sanity. Yes, we were both blonde, but I was more crayon yellow than his golden wheat. He had sky eyes and mine were "greener than grass" (so Alfred said). He was evenly tanned and I was lucky to find myself darker than a sheet of paper. He was built like an athlete and almost six foot. I had uncooked noodles for arms and was barely passing 5'5 . I don't even want to mention the eyebrows.

I must have shown something on my face (like complete and utter disbelief because Alfred was not only an idiot, he was apparently also a _delusional_ idiot) because he laughed and I had to bite my thumb to keep from giggling at the sound.

"Not identical. Like, fraternal or whatever. We're, what? Two minutes apart?" I shrugged the best I could from this position of laying on my side and reading one of Alfred's many comic books and I don't know why I was still reading it because it was stupid, really. Who would want the superpower to unlock doors. If you were going to have the ability to do something amazing, why not, like, be able to read an entire book just by looking at it. Or being able to read minds. Or have the ability to sense danger or see into the future or. . . Right. This is stupid.

"Whatever. I still think you're an idiot." There was a pause, the only sound was his mom humming down in the kitchen while she made us lunch and I hoped it involved cookies or brownies because his mom really should open a bakery or something and I could also hear his dad arguing with the T.V. which meant he was watching sports even though he's not supposed to when anyone else is home because he can get in some really heated debates with the referees. "Would you close the blinds?"

Alfred groaned and I scowled at the Michael Jordan poster next to me as I couldn't be bothered to actually turn back around to face the boy I was annoyed with.

"Why are you so paranoid? No one is out to get you! No one is watching us!" This time I did turn around, twisting the big and bright and yellow 'S' beneath me as I did so.

"I am not paranoid. I'm just. . . cautious."

"Yeah. Right. I've know you for two years and you're always tensing when a car drives by or when the doorbell rings or the telephone and you have to check the closet before bed and the shower before you close the bathroom door and have to have the blinds shut at all times and—"

"Shut up! Just you wait! When you're killed by an axe murderer in the night, guess who'll be laughing then?" I crossed my arms and willed my cheeks to stop burning like there were hot coals imbedded in them or some weird simile or metaphor like that.

"Geez, calm down. I didn't mean anything." The bed creaked slightly in protest as another indentation made its way onto the oversized mattress. I had to remind myself as Alfred put his arm across my shoulders that, '_No. He's not trying to hurt you. No. He's not going to kidnap you. No. He won't come into your room in the middle of the night and smother you with a pillow. It's Alfred. You're best friend_.' I took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh.

"Whatever. Let's go to the cliff, I think I left my jacket there last weekend."

"Hey. I don't think it's here." I growled and kicked a rock, watching it fly towards the edge and keep flying and flying until gravity decided to rear its ugly head and it began falling and falling instead. Ever since Alfred and I discovered this place last year I've been haunted by nightmares of tripping or slipping or being pushed off the side.

Most of the time it's Alfred pushing me.

"Come on! Let's go, please. Mom will have had lunch ready and I'm starving." I tried my best to ignore the whining coming from beside our bikes, but with a voice as loud as Alfred's it's not the easiest task.

"Let me just check one more time." I was also trying to ignore the visions of falling, falling, falling that were running through my head as I shuffled my way down the ledge and scanned the area for my, of course, _brown_ jacket. It had once been Alfred's, but he lent it to me and never asked for it back. Not that I would have given it to him if he _had_ asked because I admit that I enjoyed the scent that still lingered on it, kind of grassy and sweaty and toothpaste-y and hamburger-y and so _Alfred_. I would never tell him this, that I was like some blushing schoolgirl that stole her boyfriend's jacket because I definitely wasn't anything _like_ a blushing schoolgirl. Far from it, really. And it was way too embarrassing to mention and if he hasn't said anything, then I won't and—

"Found it!" I was peering over the edge and there it was, just a few feet down, hanging onto a root like it was waiting for me to come and save it as if it were a damsel in distress. I could hear Alfred begin to walk over, but although the back of my neck twitched I didn't let myself look behind me because I knew that Alfred wouldn't push me and I had nothing to worry about. My hands still became slick with sweat, so I scrubbed them red on the thighs of my jeans.

"Hey, don't get so close to the edge until I'm there."

I waited obediently until I heard Alfred stop walking and the itch and twitch of my neck and back became too much so I had to turn around but as I did so he reached up and grasped the front of my shirt in two large hands and that definitely wasn't part of the plan.

"Alfred?" I pressed my own hands against his chest and pushed back, useless, of course, as he was about a billion pounds from all those hamburgers (not that he was fat. Far from it. I have always wondered how he eats like he does and manages not to gain anything. . .) and the muscle was making it harder and harder to shove him around these days. "Let me go. We need to get the jacket." He chuckled at this, low and deep and. . . (menacing?) . . . and so not Alfred's laugh that sounded like a clown or something creepy and too-happy like that. I gulped and tried to ignore the sudden explosion of butterflies in my stomach and the fact that my hands were slick again and the sweat was burning a scrape on my palm that I had gotten when I tripped over Alfred's leg on his porch in the backyard four days ago (was it four? It was four). Alfred grinned and leaned down, I almost thought he was going to kiss me, but that would be wrong and gross. No, he dipped sideways and placed his lips right next to my ear as his glasses poked into my temple and I tried to squirm away but it was no use he was so strong and this wasn't Alfred and it was so weird and scary I had to be having another one of my nightmares. . .

"Bye-bye, birdie."

And he pushed.

"It seems your child became delusional just as, uh. . . Alfred Jones walked over. When Alfred tried to grab their shirt and pull them to safety, they pushed themselves off of his chest and fell over the edge. That's all the information we have at the moment. I'm sorry for your loss, ma'am. We'll let you know the details on your child's unfortunate accident when they come in."

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A/N: I'm really on a roll with the whole tragedy thing. It's actually quite fun to write. If you haven't already, go check out 'Memory 1'!

I love those who read my stories! I also love those who review!

CIAO : +

~Sakura


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